


Show me where my armor ends, show me where my skin begins

by Honey_Dewey



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Bad Dad Din Djarin, Bisexual Din Djarin, Din is both Dad and Mom, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Inappropriate Use of the Force, No angst here, Post-episode 2:01, Soft family content, The Child is precious, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, Use of alien languages, gender-neutral child, he's trying his best, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27460345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honey_Dewey/pseuds/Honey_Dewey
Summary: Din Djarin was not a good dad. He had no clue what to do with a kid, much less a force-sensitive one with a massive bounty on their head.So let's follow Din as he struggles through parenthood, and maybe come out of it a little mushier than before.
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Din Djarin
Comments: 24
Kudos: 213





	1. I'll run the risk of being intimate with brokenness

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a self indulgent piece of trash. 
> 
> It was 11 PM when Pluto by Sleeping at Last came on and the specific line that became the title of this fic spurred me to literally crank out 1.6k words in a few hours. 
> 
> Enjoy my bullshit. I promise there will be more chapters.

There were many things that settled a restless soul. 

Oftentimes, the blurring lights of hyperspace were enough to calm Din’s jumpiness. He enjoyed watching the reflections bounce around his armor, and they seemed to lull the Child to sleep as well. 

Tonight that wasn’t working for either of them. 

“C’mon,” Din grumbled, picking the Child out of their pram. The poor thing had been on-again off-again crying for the past two hours, and it was starting to drive Din crazy. 

Once settled in Din’s arms, the Child calmed, but refused to stop whining, shuffling at Din’s pauldron, almost attempting to loosen it. 

“Hey!” He shouted, pulling the Child off his cuirass. “Not for chewing!” 

That, of course, set the Child off again. 

Din groaned, letting his helmet fall against the wall of the Crest. At this rate, he wasn’t getting any sleep. 

Ever since the Krayt incident, Peli asked, which was more of a demand than anything else, to see what she called ‘her little green bean’ once every two or three months. If Din was lucky, Cob would come out and they’d catch up over a drink or two while Peli babysat. 

When Din touched down on Tatooine, he didn’t say a word to Peli. Merely handed the still crying Child to her and stormed off to take his helmet off and get some real sleep. 

“Mando!” Peli knocked on the door hours later. “Get your rusty metal ass out here! That cowboy is here!” 

Din sighed, throwing an arm over his eyes. He wasn’t ready to put himself back into his beskar. He’d been wearing it for weeks with no reprieve, and he was so damn sore. Instead, he forewent the majority of his armor, deciding to merely shove his helmet on and stumble out of Peli’s spare room in nothing but his soft black sleep shirt and pants and his boots. 

“There you are!” Cob took Din’s hand and shook it. “How’s the Galaxy treatin’ you?” 

“Like absolute shit,” Din said, leaning against Peli’s kitchen cabinet. “Kid won’t stop crying most nights.” 

“Well shit,” Cob handed over a drink with a long straw for Din. “Sounds rough. You know what’s causin’ all that fussin’?” 

Din shook his head. “Do I look like I know how to raise a kid?” 

Cob snorted. “That’s fair,” he said. “Tell you what. Lots of the kids in Mos Pelgo have had issues with growing. Maybe they’re just, y’know, going through a growth spurt.” 

“That could be it.” 

They were interrupted by Peli, bursting into her kitchen and staring Din down. “There you are!” She said. She was cradling the Child to her chest. They were absolutely wailing, banging tiny fists on Peli’s collarbones. “They’ve been crying for you for the past five hours!” 

“ _ Buir _ !” 

Din shot up, moving to Peli and scooping the child out of her arms. He was moving on pure instinct. Hearing the child, who still couldn’t really talk as much as they just babbled until Din guessed what they needed, calling him  _ buir _ had sparked something in his chest. 

“It’s okay  _ ad’ika _ .  _ Buir _ is here.” 

The Child let out a few sobs, hands finding Din’s exposed neck. As soon as they had contact with Din’s skin, they calmed considerably. It only took minutes before the Child was fully asleep, Din taking gentle care in wiping away the last remnants of their tears. 

Peli sighed. “How often does that damn kid actually touch you?” She asked in a hushed voice, grabbing a scrap of soft grey fabric and helping Din make a baby carrier of sorts across his upper chest. He could vaguely remember the Mando’a word for it.  _ Birikad _ . But he never assumed he’d ever need to know the parental terms of his language. 

“They sleep in my cot space.” Din stared down at the sleeping Child. “I made a hammock for them.” 

“No,” Peli tied off the makeshift  _ birikad _ and stepped back. “How often do they touch you. Like, your skin.” 

“Never.” 

Even Cob looked exasperated at Din’s comment. 

“Mando,” he said, stepping forward. “Babies need skin-to-skin contact. It helps them develop.” 

Din looked from Peli to Cob, trying to keep his body from betraying his face. “I-“ 

“It’s okay,” Peli rubbed his shoulder affectionately, and Din had to fight to not flinch. “You didn’t know. But now you do.” 

When he eventually got back into the Crest, Cob’s wisdom stuck with him. 

The Child, as per the usual, began to cry. Din, instead of fighting with them, carefully stripped out of his armor and his shirt, pressing his Child to his chest. It took him a minute to swaddle the Child up securely and tuck them into his arms, but he got there eventually. By that point, the Child was fully asleep. 

“Goodnight my _ ad’ika _ .” Din murmured, tugging his helmet off and pressing a gentle kiss to the Child’s forehead. He carefully rested his cheek against the Child’s head, reveling in the warmth. It had been so long since someone else had touched him. 

He decided, slowly dropping into the emptiness of sleep, that he quite enjoyed this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A guide for the Mando'a used in this story! Some words have multiple meanings, like Ad'ika has 6, so I picked the most relevant few.
> 
> Buir: Parent  
> Ad'ika: Darling, Son, Child  
> Birikad: baby carrying harness (Think Papoose)  
> Ba’vodu: Aunt or Uncle  
> Buy’ce: helmet  
> Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum: I love you  
> Ner ad’ika: My Child/Darling/Son  
> Burc’ya: Friend


	2. I can't keep my head from spinning out of control, is this what being vulnerable feels like?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din and the Child have a slightly one sided discussion about when it's an appropriate to use the Force. And maybe the Child keeps trying to see Din's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two, here we go! More soft Did content. And for our next chapter, Din tries to teach the child to talk with mixed results.

After their day with Peli, the Child seemed happier. Or maybe it was because Din was cuddling them to sleep every night. Either way, they were more lighthearted, laughed a lot more, and generally seemed to be more alive. 

Which was both good and bad for Din. 

It was good because there were significantly less tantrums throughout the day. 

It was bad because now the Child was using the Force more often. 

“No!” Din snatched a flying lunchbox out of the air. “I fed you already!” 

The Child pouted, looking up at Din from their spot in their pram. 

“Honestly,” Din mumbled, picking the Child up and pulling him close. “You’re getting so hungry, my ravenous little  _ ad’ika. _ ” 

The Child giggled, putting their tiny clawed hands on Din’s helmet, right where his cheeks were. 

“I know,” Din said, resting his forehead against the Child’s. “You’re growing. But that doesn’t mean you can eat everything on board. Your _ buir _ has to eat too.”

Thankfully, the Child was quickly learning more of the Mando’a that Din tossed around. They understood that  _ buir _ meant Din and  _ ad’ika _ meant them. Din had slowly introduced the concept of Peli as  _ ba’vodu _ , which the Child was picking up on rather quickly. 

“We can eat later,” Din promised, settling in the cockpit and flicking a switch idly. “Until then, why don’t you nap?” 

The Child babbled, reaching their hands out towards Din once more. He didn’t even notice what the Child was doing until his helmet actually began to float off his head. 

“No!” Din pushed his helmet down, grabbing the Child’s hands and scolding them lightly. “We don’t touch  _ buir’s buy’ce _ . Okay?” 

The Child pouted, but nodded all the same. 

Din sighed, putting the Child in their pram. “Sit there and think about what you’ve done.” 

As he turned away from the Child, Din shuddered slightly. Peli was right. He really was turning into a mother. 

* * *

The next time the Child attempted to levitate Din’s helmet was when they were trekking through some rather wet woodlands, the Child settled on Din’s shoulders. 

“What did I tell you?” Din said, feeling the Child grip his cape. “My  _ buy’ce _ is off limits.” 

The Child gurgled and wobbled, nearly falling off Din’s shoulder. 

Din sighed, realizing what was happening. “Do you want something to hold on to?” 

Another gurgle. Din tried to keep the Child out of the bag as much as possible. When they were alone like this, he let the Child sit in his arms or on his shoulders. It kept them awake, and let them see what was going on. But they rarely sat on Din’s shoulders, and it seemed they were having issues with balancing there. 

Din thought, wondering why he never bothered to learn about the family part of his Creed. Probably because he assumed he’d never have a family. He remembered some things, like wedding ceremonies and extenuating circumstances for the helmet. But he couldn’t exactly remember if his children could see his face. 

“Fine.” Din eventually conceded. It was a losing battle anyway, and he was horribly sweaty under the helmet. He really just wanted it off. And he was so close to the Child, the bond stronger than anything. Din just felt right showing them his face.

The Child squealed, easily levitating Din’s helmet off. Din caught it, tucking it up under his arm and continuing to walk, feeling the child pet his hair. 

“Hey,” Din reached up and pointed to his ear. “Hold on.” 

The Child did as told, gripping Din’s ear and giggling. 

“I know, I look funny without the helmet.” Din smiled, stepping over a log. “But I’m still me. Still your _ buir _ .”

As if spurred by his words, the Child reached out and touched his cheek, rubbing against his stubble. 

“ _ Buir _ ?”

Din smiled wider, picking the Child off his shoulder and holding them close. “Yes. I’m your _ buir _ . I will always be your  _ buir _ .” 

The Child snuggled into Din’s neck, burying their face into his skin. 

Din’s heart swelled. “ _ Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ner ad’ika _ .” 

When Din found the rendezvous point for him and Cara, he had his helmet back on and had swaddled the half asleep Child in their  _ birikad _ . Cara smiled upon seeing them. 

“Someone’s tired,” she said, kneeling down to see the child better. “How’re you kiddo?” 

The Child blinked their eyes open and looked up at Din. “ _ Burc’ya _ ?” 

Cara stepped back in surprise while Din nodded. “Yes. She’s our  _ burc’ya _ .” 

“They talk?” 

Din looked up at Cara. “Yeah.” He shrugged. “But only Mando’a, it seems.” 

Cara, still in mild shock, nodded. “Okay then.” She watched the Child smile. “What does that word mean?” 

  
“ _ Burc’ya _ ?” Din mounted the speeder bike Cara had brought for him to cross the empty plains. “It means friend.”


	3. I am not my own, for I have been made new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din tries to teach the Child to talk with mixed results, and he runs into a stranger who has a bit more success with the Child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three! I adored the idea that the Child's first word was a swear, but technically it ended up being Dad, so this is the best I could do. 
> 
> And for our next chapter, while laying low, Din catches a bit of an illness. Ok maybe it's a bit more severe than 'a bit of an illness' but he's a Mandalorian. Surely he can handle a fever, right?

After the Child saw Din without his helmet, Din was careless with it. He wandered around the Crest bare-headed more often than not, and the Child seemed to enjoy it. They cooed and rubbed against his cheeks, and squealed with laughter when Din kissed them. 

This also led to another phenomenon. 

Did had yet to invest in a booster seat for the Razor Crest, figuring the pram was enough. But the Child liked to be close, and Din fretted over the Child’s safety during bumpy rides. 

So the current status of the Child’s makeshift booster seat was Din’s helmet. 

He put the helmet in his lap, and the Child sat inside. It wasn’t the most sanitary, nor was it the safest. But it meant that Din could hold the Child in his lap while he flew. 

It was also the perfect opportunity to teach the kid to talk a bit more. They were scraping by, with  _ buir _ and  _ ad’ika _ , but Din was eager to teach the kid how to actually speak in sentences. For now, however, simple words like Yes and No were Din’s priority. 

“ _ Elek _ ,” Din said, nodding to the Child, who was curled up in Din’s helmet. “Can you say  _ elek _ ?” 

The Child cooed, sleepily nodding. 

Din smiled, patting the Child’s head. “Is my  _ ad’ika _ sleepy?” He asked, taking the Child out of the helmet and cradling the child to his chest. He slowly made his way down into the Crest’s cot, rocking the Child as he went. “Someone needs a nap,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the Child’s forehead and settling them down into their hammock. 

Realizing he was in a safe zone and had autopilot on, Din crawled into the cot space and laid on his side. “Sleep well.” 

The Child cooed and rolled over in their cot, drifting off to sleep. 

When Din woke next, it was to alarms. He shot up, grabbing the Child and rushing to the cockpit. He shoved his helmet on and looked around. One ship, nearly as old as the Crest, was on his left. Sitting in the cockpit was another Mandalorian. 

“ _ Su cuy’gar _ ,” the Mandalorian greeted, and Din sighed in relief, adjusting the Child in his lap. “Are you the Mudhorn Mandalorian?” 

Din nodded. “Yes.” 

The other Mandalorian seemed pleased. “I have a message for you. Can we land?” 

Considering the Child, Din sighed. “Yes.” 

They both landed on the plain planet in front of them, a barren expanse of grassland in front of them. The Child was wrapped in their birikad, dozing lazily against Din’s chest. 

The other Mandalorian shook his hand, cooing lightly at the Child, who cooed back and looked up at Din. 

“ _ Burc’ya _ ?” 

Din nodded. “She’s a  _ burc’ya _ .” 

The Mandalorian stood back, and pulled a scroll out of a pouch on her belt. “From the Armorer.” 

While Din read the note, the Mandalorian entertained the Child, babbling on with them in Mando’a. 

“Can you say  _ shabuir _ ?”

“ _ Shabuir _ !” 

Din looked up, shoving the note into his bag. “No!” 

The Child tipped their head and smiled. The Mandalorian laughed, and Din sighed. “Can you not teach them to swear?”

“Okay,” The Mandalorian nodded, reaching out to the Child. “Let’s not say that. It makes your  _ buir _ very mad.” 

The Child giggled. “ _ Buir _ !” 

“Well that’s adorable.” The Mandalorian nodded to Din. “ _ Ret’urcye mhi _ !” 

He sighed, returning the bid of farewell and carrying the Child back to the Crest. “Alright little womp rat,” Din said, taking his helmet off and depositing the Child into their pram. “Get some rest.” 

The Child gurgled and settled down, falling asleep amongst the safety of their blankets. 

Din sat in the pilot’s chair, finally relaxing. He set up autopilot and kicked his boots off, ready to catch a few hours of sleep. Before he could truly drift off, he heard the Child shuffle upright. 

“ _ Shabuir _ !” 

“No!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A guide for the Mando'a used in this chapter! Some words have multiple meanings, like Ad'ika has 6, so I picked the most relevant few.  
> Buir: Parent  
> Ad'ika: Darling, Son, Child  
> Birikad: baby carrying harness (Think Papoose)  
> Burc’ya: Friend  
> Elek: Yes  
> Su cuy’gar: Hello  
> Shabuir: Bitch  
> Ret’urcye mhi: Goodbye


	4. Show me where to find the silver lining as the mercury keeps rising, 'til the glass or my fever breaks.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din falls under the weather, and maybe it's worse than it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been banging out chapter after chapter and I love it. 
> 
> Props to you if you catch the reference to Pedro Pascal's other work!
> 
> Also, fuck Ep. 3 that isn't canon here. It was a good episode, but we're here for fluff and Din Djarin Development.

Four weeks after the run-in with the other Mandalorian, Din started to feel not well. He didn’t feel bad, he just didn’t feel good either. 

He looked over at the Child, who was sound asleep in a real cradle. They’d touched down on a nice forest covered moon that was aptly named ‘The Green.’ It had barely any locals, but Din and Cara had a small cottage where they could lay low for a bit while the trouble Din had gotten into recently blew over. 

Din sighed, reaching out to graze the side of the wooden cradle. It was weird to be in a home after all that time aboard the Razor Crest. The ground was stable and the house was solid, with no threat of being blown up or crashing. There was nothing to worry about out here. 

Well, there were some things to worry about. 

It started with a bit of muscle pain. Din woke up and stretched, surprised to find his muscles aching. He brushed it off as a result of the work he’d done the day previous and lifted the Child out of their cradle to start the day. 

After breakfast, it progressed into a lack of appetite. He, yet again, pushed it aside. The ration packs from last night had seemed old, maybe they’d upset his stomach. It would certainly explain the nausea he had. 

Cara took the child for the day while Din settled into the shed in hopes of making some good progress on the repair of Cara’s broken speeder bike. 

By lunchtime, Din was soaked in sweat and completely exhausted. He’d taken his helmet off after the coughing had started, and he was fairly certain he’d almost coughed up a lung at one point. It wasn’t a dry cough that tore at his throat either. He’d never been this ill before, spitting out mouthfuls of something, he didn’t even know, every couple of minutes after he had a particularly bad coughing fit. He was dizzy with fever, and he couldn’t get a good breath in for the life of him. Between the breathlessness and the coughing, Din’s head spun whenever he moved too quickly. 

It was when he collapsed by the back door that he finally admitted he may be sick. 

Cara basically carried him to bed, laying him down and slowly pulling his armor off. After the armor came the clothes until Din was left in a thin t-shirt and shorts. He had no blankets, but he didn’t want any. He just wanted to go to sleep and wake up and not have to worry about being sick anymore. 

“Keep watch over Din,” Cara said, patting the Child’s head. “Call me if he gets worse. I’m going to make some real soup and see if I can find anything for the symptoms.” 

Just like that, she left, and Din immediately ditched the helmet, coughing and sobbing as he lay back, shivering. 

The Child cooed sadly and curled up to Din, laying a clawed hand against Din’s feverish skin. Din whined, a horrible chill making his body shake as he rolled onto his side. 

He did drift, coughing and taking small, shallow breaths. The Child remained stubbornly by his side, sitting on a spare pillow and messing with a puzzle cube Din had found buried in a bucket aboard the Crest. They finally moved when Din shot upright, turned over, and threw up on the floor. The Child stood, waddling off the bed and out the door. Din, now alone, finally began to cry. 

Cara rushed into the room, her hand over her eyes. “Din?” 

“ _Elek_?” 

Cara felt around until she had pulled a soft fabric over Din’s face. “Din, are you okay? The Child came rushing out and,” she stopped, seeing the vomit on the floor. “Oh Din.” 

“Cara,” he rasped softly, turning his head towards her. “ _Baar’ur_?” 

“Din,” Cara shook her head. “I don’t speak Mando’a. You have to relax, there we go,” she murmured, putting a hand on Din’s shoulder. “I’m leaving the Child with you while I go get the local tribe’s medic. Will you be okay?” 

Din’s body shook as he coughed, the horrible, wet sound making Cara worried. “ _Aaray. Nayc kot_.” 

Cara sighed. “I’m getting the medic.” 

She left, and the Child cuddled up to Din’s side, chirping sadly. Din groaned, reaching out slowly to pat the Child’s head. “ _Vor entye, ad’ika_.”

They stayed like that, the Child curled right up against Din’s feverish skin, not minding the sweat or the full-body shivers. 

“I have the medic!” Cara called through the cottage, making Din whine. “They speak Mando’a!” 

Din sighed, closing his eyes and feeling the bed spin underneath him. Cold hands that weren’t Cara’s touched his bare shoulder, and he keened at the icy touch. 

“Greetings Din,” a soft voice filtered into the room. “I am Gya, a former Mandalorian _baar'ur_. Your friend tells me you aren’t feeling well.” 

“ _Elek_ ,” Din breathed, coughing and groaning. The Child gave a concerned little coo, pressing a clawed hand to Din’s covered face. 

“Your _ad’ika_ seems to be concerned. If your friend left, would you let me see you?” 

Din forced in a breath, trying to keep calm. He knew panicking would worsen his condition, especially with how his chest felt. “ _Elek_.” 

The baar’ur sent Cara out, and carefully lifted the cloth from Din’s face. They looked young, barely any older than Din. One eye was marred by scarring and they had no visible hair beneath a steel grey head wrap. They smiled at Din, soft and comforting. “You’re very brave,” they murmured, resting a wrist against Din’s forehead. “News of Nevarro reached out here within two weeks. I couldn’t believe what I heard at first. Can you sit up?” 

Din thought, testing his muscles. “ _Nayc_.”

“Can you list your symptoms? Aside from the cough, of course.” 

“ _Aaray,_ _nayc kot_ ,” Din groaned, gesturing loosely to his chest. “ _Baarpir_.” He went to say more, but the words got caught in his throat, causing him to cough violently. 

“That’s okay, get it out,” the _baar’ur_ reassured, rubbing his back. “I think I’m done anyway. You can relax now, it’s nothing serious. Just a small illness that affects the lungs. A week’s rest and medical care and you should be right as rain.” They stood, patting the Child’s head. “You take very good care of your _buir_ now, okay?” 

The Child cooed, nodding and putting a hand solidly on Din. 

The _baar’ur_ left, talking with Cara just outside the bedroom. Eventually, she came in, hand over her eyes. “The medic told me what to do to help,” she said, blindly digging around until she had set up an oxygen canister with a small tube coming out the top. “Hopefully, you feel better by the end of the week.” 

Din sighed, weakly helping Cara set the tube up over his ears and under his nose. It felt weird at first, but the additional oxygen made Din’s lungs burn with relief. A cold towel was placed across Din’s forehead, Cara’s hand lingering for a minute before Din coughed again. She left, softly telling Din she’d be back with dinner, and he should get some real rest. 

Not wanting to risk rolling, Din patted around until he found the Child and gently pulled them close. “ _Ad’ika_.”

The Child cuddled up under Din’s arm, making happy noises. “ _Buir_.”

“ _Vor entye, ad’ika.”_

When Cara came back, a bowl of soup in her hands, she smiled at the sight before her. The Child, almost asleep, was sprawled across Din’s chest, cooing as it rose and fell. Din was, presumably, asleep, a thin cloth over his face. 

  
“Sleep well Din,” Cara said, setting the bowl down and leaving the small _aliit_ to their sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A guide for the Mando'a used in this story! Some words have multiple meanings, like Ad'ika has 6, so I picked the most relevant few.
> 
> Elek: Yes  
> Baar’ur: Doctor  
> Aaray: Pain  
> Nayc Kot: No Strength  
> Vor Entye: Thank You  
> Adika: Child/son/darling  
> Nayc: No  
> Baarpir: Sweat  
> Aliit: Family/Clan
> 
> And notes! I'm sorry for giving Din space pneumonia, I promise I won't do it again. He won't get so delirious he cannot speak Basic anymore.


	5. Roundabouts and washing lines, we do each other's laundry in our hearts sometimes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din’s recovered very well, but someone else has begun to cough...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. 
> 
> I know I said I wouldn’t hurt Din again, but I didn’t say anything about anyone else! 
> 
> I’m sorry anyway.

Cara and Din stayed on The Green for two weeks after Din got sick. He recovered well, and within a week, he wasn’t coughing anymore. The Child, who had stayed by his side the entire time, was eager to get up and walk around again. 

“ _ Ad’ika _ ,” Din said, looking throughout the house. “Where’d you go, little one?” He ducked to peer into a cabinet, hearing small giggles. “Don’t make me hunt you down!” 

Giggles filled the air again as Din lifted a blanket and found the Child sitting beneath it. “There’s my little  _ ad’ika _ !” He scooped the Child up, holding them at arms length when they sneezed. “Gross.” 

The Child simply gave a congested sounding coo. Their ears flopped down, and Din immediately had a horrible thought. Had he gotten the Child sick? 

“Cara!” 

Forty five minutes later, Din was pacing in front of the door to the  _ baar’ur’s  _ tent, worry making his entire chest feel tight again. Cara was sat on a fallen log, staring at the small path Din was making in the dirt from his worried walking. 

“Do you think-“ 

“I think,” Cara said, cutting Din off. “You’re worrying too much. You need to sit and relax.” 

Din shook his head, mumbling something Cara didn’t catch, and went back to his pacing. 

“Good news,” the  _ baar’ur _ shuffled out, holding the Child. “They’re going to be fine. Bad news, they do have what you had. Keep them on the oxygen, and make sure they eat or drink something every day. They’ll probably be clingy, it’s just what babies do when they’re sick. Try skin to skin contact, and keep that fever down.” 

Cara nodded and thanked the _baar’ur_ , peering at the Child, who was securely in Din’s arms. “Let’s get them home.”

The Child was incredibly subdued the entire trip home. They didn’t cry or whine, just shuffled in Din’s arms and occasionally let out weak whimpers or coughs. Din fretted wildly when the Child had a coughing fit, and it took Cara ten minutes to reassure Din that the Child was fine. 

When they reached home, Din immediately helped get the Child set up with the oxygen he had been using last week. The Child pretty much refused to eat, but Cara managed to get a few spoonfuls of soup into them. 

“Why don’t you go out into the garden,” Cara suggested once the Child had finally fallen asleep. “I’ll call you if anything happens, I promise.” 

Din nodded, muttering something about repairs to the Crest. Really, he didn’t want to leave the Child’s side, but Cara was right. He needed to distract himself. 

Two hours later, Cara carried the Child out to see Din. They looked exhausted, gummy eyes half closed and head tucked into Cara’s shoulder. “They’re calling for you.” 

“Coming!” Din called from his position half inside the Razor Crest’s paneling. “Come here  _ ad’ika _ , tell me what’s wrong.” 

The Child coughed, and Din winced at the harsh sound. “It’s okay  _ ad’ika _ . I’m here.  _ Buir _ is here.” 

Immediately, the Child calmed, putting a hand against Din’s armor. 

Cara, getting the hint, left, telling Din he could come inside at any time. 

Din nodded to her and began to take his beskar off, piling it methodically. His helmet came off last, and he let the Child press their overly warm hands to his cheek. 

“That’s it, I’m here.” Din swayed softly side to side, trying to lure the Child to sleep. “I’m here  _ad’ika_. ” 

His idea worked somewhat. The Child was only convinced to sleep when Din fully removed his shirt and wrapped the Child in their  _birikad_. It wasn’t ideal, but it allowed Din to have both hands free while he finished up the easier repairs to the Crest. 

By the time he was done, the Child had been asleep almost an hour, snoozing gently against Din’s skin. He knew he had to take the Child in at some point, whether it be for medicine or food, but for now, he decided to rest. Nestling the helmet on his head in case Cara came looking for him, Din sat down against the wall and closed his eyes. 

He woke up right as the Child woke up, mostly because they both woke up to the same thing. The rumbling of another ship setting down. 

Immediately, Din shot upright, putting a protective arm around the Child. The ground continued to rumble, and then settled. The Crest’s door opened, but it was only Cara, rushing to check on Din and the Child. 

“It’s not a war ship,” she reassured. “It’s not much bigger than the Crest, actually.” 

Din, not convinced, walked out of the Crest to watch the locals of the Green greet the ship eagerly. Out stepped a man and a child, waving and hugging everyone. The child looked older, maybe late teens, and the man looked too different from her to be her father. And, upon further observation, Din noticed the man was missing an arm. He turned away, looking at Cara. “Make sure they’re not dangerous.” 

Cara nodded, hearing the unspoken ‘please’ at the end of Din’s sentence. “Will do.” 

Which left Din alone with the sick Child. Again. 

The Child was fussy now that they were awake, and Din trailed into the cottage to get the Child some medicine and maybe convince them to drink some broth. 

“C’mon, open up.” Din held the spoon full of medicine out for the Child, who had been unwrapped from their  burikad and was now nestled in the crook of Din’s left elbow. “I’m not fighting you. Open.” 

The Child whined, but took the medicine. 

And immediately spit it back up. 

Din growled, pulling his helmet off and grabbing a wayward cloth to wipe up the Child’s face. “Do not pull that again.” 

He managed to wrestle some more medicine into the Child, and this time didn’t have said medicine spat back up at him. 

“Okay,” Din said softly, sitting down in a rocking chair in his room and feeling the Child settle against his bare chest. “Sleep now  _ ad’ika .  Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum _ .” 

Cara came back a while later, looking around the seemingly empty cottage. Peering around a corner into Din’s room, she smiled, seeing the back of Din’s bare head. He was rocking gently in the wooden rocking chair, humming softly to the sleeping Child tucked in his arms. “Din,” she said, putting a hand over her eyes and settling on the bed. 

Din shuffled, and she heard the telltale hiss of the helmet. Opening her eyes, she smiled at the completely paternal scene in front of her. “The strangers. They’re locals. Left to go get supplies. That healer promised we can trust them.” 

“Okay,” Din said softly. “As long as  _ ner ad’ika _ is safe.” 

“ _ Ad’ika _ ,” Cara repeated, nearly butchering the pronunciation. “You call the Child that all the time. What does it mean?” 

Din shrugged. “Literally, it means child. But it can mean things like son, daughter, kid. It’s also a term of endearment for children. I think the rough translation to Basic is darling?” 

Cara nodded. “It’s like their name at this point, isn’t it?” 

Din looked out over the calm expanse of green, wishing his life could stay this peaceful forever. “Yeah. I guess it is.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜 
> 
> A guide for the Mando’a used in the chapter  
> Ad’ika: Child, son, darling  
> Baar’ur: Doctor  
> Buir: Father  
> Birikad: baby carrying device (papoose)  
> Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum: I love you  
> Ner Ad’ika: my child


	6. For in our great sorrow, we learn what joy means.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On his travels to Tatooine, Din runs into a tiny problem of the Child’s first tantrum. And then once on Tatooine, Din must navigate his way to Mos Pelgo without getting hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got frustrated and mashed two chapters together to make one big super-chapter 
> 
> Oops. 
> 
> I’m not sorry.

Din and the Child left the Green as soon as they could. Cara stayed behind, as per the usual. 

The Child was technical well enough to fly, but was less than happy about leaving. They cried pretty much the entire way up into the air, and once Din had made the jump to hyperspace, he finally turned his attention to the sobbing Child. 

“We’re going to go visit Peli,” he said, lifting the Child up out of their pram. “I thought you liked Peli?” 

The Child simply banged their tiny fists on Din’s vambraces and continued to scream. Din sighed, holding the Child out, so they didn’t accidentally set off his flamethrower or whistling birds. That would be bad. 

Realizing he was entering ‘baby’s first tantrum’ territory, Din groaned, putting his helmet in it’s usual spot on his right side passenger seat and cradled the Child close to his chest. He was pretty good at avoiding tantrums so far. The Child had very simple needs, and those needs were often met before they melted down. 

Not this time. Din was completely unequipped to help with what was likely the splitting sinus headache the Child had. 

Ten minutes later, Din was pacing, making methodic rounds throughout the Razor Crest. The Child hadn’t stopped screaming and crying, and their voice was starting to fade. Din’s own head was beginning to ache, pulsing dully behind his eyes. 

“Okay,” Din held the Child up, so they were inches from his face. They finally stopped screaming, wet eyes glimmering beneath the lights of the Crest. “That’s enough of that.” His own eyes were starting to water, the ache in his head spreading down to his body. 

The Child cooed, reaching out and poking one tiny little claw into Din’s cheek. 

Immediately, Din smiled. He played this game with the Child fairly often, although it was usually the other way around. He’d poke the Child’s cheeks to keep them happy. 

The Child seemingly got what they wanted and poked Din’s cheek again. 

This time, Din couldn’t keep the small laugh inside his chest. 

The Child squealed with laughter and poked Din again. 

They both ended up in a cycle of poking and laughter, until Din was doubled over, laughing harder than he’d laughed in years. 

“Okay!” He said through his laughter. “I concede!  _Gedet'ye ad’ika! Kandosii_. ” 

The Child cooed and blinked their tiny eyes a few times. Din wiped his laughter from his eyes and picked them up, humming. “Are you sleepy?” 

Humming back in response, the Child snuggled deep down into Din’s arms. 

“Okay,” Din said, carrying the Child to the cockpit. “Let’s sleep.” 

But the Child wasn’t content. They tugged insistently on Din’s sleeve, humming again. 

“What?” Din asked. “Do you want a lullaby?” 

Cooing, the Child wiggled into Din’s arms, looking at him expectantly. 

“Okay,” Din said, searching his memory. He didn’t know any Mando’a lullabies, but surely the singular drinking song he knew was good enough, right? 

“ _Buy'ce gal, buy'ce tal, Verbor'ad ures aliit, Mhi draar baat'i meg'parjii'se, Kote lo'shebs'ul narit_. ” 

Din kept singing, slowing the lyrics and making them lullaby appropriate. It was a long way to Tatooine, so Din settled in for the long haul, rocking his seat a bit to keep the Child asleep. 

As he sang, the blur of hyperspace settled around him, the soft hum of the ship lulled him to sleep. 

He never did finish his fifth go-around of the song.

* * *

Setting down on Tatooine the next day was the easy part, unfortunately. Din landed at Peli’s, and she eagerly said hello to the Child. 

“How’s my little green bean!” She asked happily, holding out her arms and accepting the Child. “Had Mando been treating you well?” 

“As well as I can,” Din responded. “Did you get a new speeder bike?” 

Peli sighed. “You can borrow it,” she said, handing Din back the Child. “On one condition.” 

“I don’t return it in shambles?” Din guessed, remembering the earful he’d gotten upon telling Peli he couldn’t return her original speeder bike. 

“Exactly!” Peli said, pulling a speeder bike out. “Should I call ahead and tell Vanth you’re coming?” 

Din shrugged. “I don’t care,” he said, mounting the bike and taking off. 

The trip out to Mos Pelgo was one Din actually enjoyed. With the Child tucked safely in a bag at his side, Din could forget his problems for the time being and focus solely on traveling. He knew he could push the trip well into the night and show up as the twin suns reached their peak the next day, which was the most desirable scenario. 

That didn’t really happen. 

The travel into the night was easy, and even most of the morning was nice and simple. It was when the suns were an hour away from their peak that Din ran into a whole bunch of shit. 

He was maybe twenty minutes out from Mos Pelgo when he was ambushed. 

Pirates jumped him and the Child, knocking him off the bike. 

Praying they didn’t damage the bike too badly, because Peli would murder him if he returned another damaged bike, Din scrambled to his feet and looked around. The Child was, blissfully, next to him and vaguely safe. But the pirates were advancing, holding heavy weaponry. 

“Give us the Child!” One of them yelled. 

Din unsheathed his knife, holding the Child to his side. “You’ll have to kill me.” 

* * *

“He should’ve been here by now,” Cobb worried, hands on his hips. Peli had called ahead earlier in the morning, telling him Din was arriving by high noon. And yet, no sign of the Mandalorian on the horizon, and it was well past noon. “Do you think somethin’ happened?” 

Dasitris, the town medic, sighed. “Marshal, you’re being paranoid,” she promised softly. “If you’re that worried, I’ll help you go out to find him.” 

Cobb nodded. “He’s prolly just runnin’ late,” he reasoned to himself. “But yeah, just in case, let’s go see if we can spot him.” 

He and Dasitris got on his speeder bike and began to head out towards Mos Eisley. Dasitris sat still on the bike, hands on her knees. “Ten miles,” she murmured. “I’m sending a disturbance. Hurry. A life is fading.” 

That was all the incentive Cobb needed to hit the gas just a bit harder. 

They found Din collapsed on the ground, the Child crying and tugging insistently on his cape. The sand was stained red with blood when Cobb jumped down to roll Din over, frantically trying to wake him up. 

“Vanth?” Din groaned, reaching out. His hand fell short, hitting the sand with a dull thud. “Where?” 

“Middle of nowhere,” Cobb said, examining Din for injuries. “Twenty minutes out. We gotta get you back to Mos Pelgo. Dasitris can fix you up all nice.” 

Din shook his head. “Shot my head. Hurts.” 

Dasitris approached, picking the Child up and cradling them. “Come on. We have to get back.” 

Cobb held Din the entire way back, Dasitris and the Child on Din’s speeder bike. Cobb called out directions to Dasitris, and they pushed their travel time to ten minutes before they pulled up to the Mos Pelgo medical building. 

Din was placed, rather quickly and haphazardly, on the stretcher in the medical room. Cobb immediately began to pull him out of his armor, piling it in the corner. “Give me the Child.” 

The Child was passed to Cobb, and he patted Dasitris on the shoulder. “You got this?” 

“Yes,” Dasitris nodded. “You can go.” 

Which left Din and Dasitris alone, Din slowly bleeding out on her table. 

“Your head,” Dasitris said, gathering bandages and bacta spray. “Let me see.” 

“Can’t,” Din groaned. “My creed. It forbids me.” 

Dasitris put her hands on Don’s helmet. “My eyes,” she countered stubbornly. “They don’t work.” 

Din, too tired to argue, just let her lift the helmet and cradle his head, blind eyes peering at his injuries. “You’ve had head injuries before?” 

“Once or twice,” Din responded slowly. His head was starting to spin from blood loss. “How can you be a medic if you can’t see?” He was afraid of not talking, not listening. If he stopped paying attention, he feared he would slip away and never return. 

“I’m using a power not many have,” Dasitris said slowly, grabbing a bacta injection and carefully locating the proper place to inject it into Din’s shoulder. “It’s frowned upon, especially now. But it helps me sense my surroundings instead of seeing them. I build an image in my mind based upon what my senses tell me. Now, it’s almost as effortless as breathing.”

“The Force,” Din hissed as Dasitris wiped his head. “The Child uses the Force.” 

Dasitris smiled softly, picking up a needle and thread. “Shall I put you under? Or do you fancy feeling me sew your head back together?” 

Din hesitated. “Will I wake?” 

“Of course,” Dasitris reassured. “I can sense your body’s activity. Nothing will go wrong, I promise.” 

That wall all Din needed to let his head rest in Dasitris’s lap as she gave him a second bacta injection and gently closed his eyes. 

* * *

Much to Dasitris’s credit, Din woke back up, his body aching, but not in stabbing pain. He sat up, hearing soft snores from the corner of the room. Cobb was passed out in a wayward rocking chair, his red bandana tied over his eyes. The Child was asleep in his lap, clinging to his shirt. 

Din sat up, his head pounding. A thick layer of something gooey was smeared across his head and various other smaller injuries. It tingled a tiny bit, and he was fairly certain it had some level of bacta in it. 

His helmet and armor were stacked neatly in the corner, but Din forwent them. Instead, he carefully picked up the shirt that held his cuirass, examining the fabric. The sleeve was torn, and Din sighed. Digging around in one of his boot pockets, he pulled out a small sewing kit. Finding a needle and thick grey thread, Din began the repetitive, yet calming process of sewing his clothes back together. 

Cobb woke up first, as Din was halfway through darning a hole in the knee of his pants. He sat up, rubbing his eyes beneath the bandana. “Fuck, should not have slept in a chair.” He looked around the room with blind eyes, settling on looking in Din’s vague direction. “You’re awake.” 

“I am,” Din agreed, continuing to patch his clothes. “Your blind friend did well. I doubt there’ll even be a noticeable scar.” 

“She put twenty stitches in the back of your head,” Cobb pointed out, leaning back and adjusting the still sleeping Child. “That’s definitely gonna scar.” 

Din sighed. He was covered in scars, and at this point, he’d really stopped caring. “How long until I’m healed?” 

“A week,” Cobb said. “Then the stitches come out.” 

“A week,” Din repeated quietly. “I can wait a week.” 

* * *

One week later, Dasitris was examining Din’s head, a small metal tool in her hand as she slowly and methodically pulled his stitches out. 

“That’s the last of it,” she finally said, stepping back. “The bacta helped the scar, but it’s still there. Not that you would mind.” 

Din nodded, instinctively rubbing the back of his head, feeling the fresh scar. “Thank you.” 

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Dasitris promised, handing him back his helmet. “Thank you for allowing me to heal you.” 

Cobb and the Child were waiting outside, the Child eagerly cooing upon seeing Din again. 

“Home?” Cobb asked, already moving towards his house. 

Din sighed, looking up at the twin suns. “Home.” 

Cobb’s house had served as Din and the Child’s home since they’d arrived, and the Child really seemed to like it. They had a cot and a solid three meals a day. It was nice. So unlike the on-the-run lifestyle Din led. 

Once inside the spare room, Din pulled his helmet and armor off, setting the Child upon his bed. 

Din set his stuff on the low dresser, letting himself relax now that he was alone. Well, as alone as he got these days. 

The Child cooed, reaching out, and Din scooped them up, holding them close to his shoulder. He knew the Child liked to inspect his injuries, even after they’d been checked over by a medic. 

“I know this week was rough,” Din said softly, feeling the Child mess with his turtleneck collar. “But we’re gonna continue to lay low here for a bit. Cobb promised to protect us.” 

The Child simply dug their three fingered hands into Din’s hair and tugged. 

“Mhm.” Din didn’t reach harshly, even though it wasn’t comfortable. He’d had worse before. Hell, he’d been in more pain than this when Dasitris had pulled his stitches out. Best he figured, the Child just wanted his attention. “Okay. I’m here  _ ad’ika _ , what is it?” 

Another tug, this time a bit sharper. 

“I’m sorry,” Din murmured, absently looking out the curtained window. “I don’t know the Mando’a word for hair.” 

The Child gave a third tug, and this time, it was painful enough for Din to flinch away. “Ouch.” Din had been trying to teach the Child that ‘ouch’ meant pain, but this wasn’t a deep enough pain for him to put any real emotion behind the word. Instead, he just deadpanned it, hoping the Child understood that they needed to knock it off. 

Immediately, Cobb started to laugh from beyond the cracked shut door. The Child echoed the laughter, and Din sighed. “What’s so funny Vanth?” 

“Is that tiny menace pullin’ on your hair?” Cobb came into the room, his bandana tied over his eyes. Din caught his outstretched hands and guided him to his side. “Lemme see.” 

Din, understanding somewhat, took Cobb’s hands and buried them in his hair. 

“Shit Din,” Cobb muttered, combing through Din’s hair. Din suppressed the noises of pleasure building in his throat. No one had touched him this intimately since his parents had been alive. “What color is it?” 

“Dark brown,” Din said softly, focusing on holding the Child. “Like a bantha, I guess. Maybe a bit darker.”

“Thought it was black.” Cobb admitted. “Saw it once, curlin’ from under the back of your helmet. What’s this?” Cobb pulled his hands from Din’s hair and ran his fingers across his cheeks. “Facial hair?” 

“A bit,” Din admitted. “Don’t always have time to shave.” 

Cobb hummed, hands tracking up to wipe his thumbs under Din’s eyes. “And these?” 

Din blinked, feeling his eyelashes tickle Cobb’s fingers. “Also brown. Like the Child.” 

“You seem handsome,” Cobb decided, putting his hands back through Din’s hair. “I thought you wouldn’t have any, given your occupation.” 

“Sentiment.” 

“Ah,” Cobb nodded. “Does your creed stop me from seeing your head or your face?”

Din thought for a minute, enjoying the distracted scratching on his scalp. “My face.” 

“Okay,” Cobb nodded. “Okay. I can work with that.” 

“You can what?” 

That was how, ten minutes and much convincing later, Din was sat in Cobb’s tiny bathroom, his helmet off and a mask covering his face. It did its job well, and Cobb promised he couldn’t see Din’s face. However, Din wasn’t sure he trusted Cobb with anything as sharp as the thin silver scissors he was currently wielding. 

“Oh c’mon!” Cobb reassured, tossing Din a towel for his shoulders. “I do my own hair. How hard can it be to do someone else’s?” 

“I guess if you fuck up, the only person who’ll see it is the Child.” 

“Exactly!” Cobb said cheerfully, burying his hands into Din’s hair and killing any more thoughts of protest. “Did you even know you basically got a mullet?” 

“What?” Din whipped around, much to Cobb’s amusement. 

“Yeah,” he tugged on one of the damp curls that sat on Din’s neck. “Kinda suits you.” His hands lingered, fingers mapping out something across Din’s neck. “Oh sweet Maker you have freckles.” 

Din sighed. “Can we get this over with?” He asked. “I’m hungry.” 

Cobb snorted softly, but grabbed a beat up old comb and began to draw it through Din’s hair. “How long’s it been since you trusted someone to do this for you?” 

“I was ten when my  buir cut my hair for the last time. After that, I swore the creed and had to do it for myself.” 

“Huh.” Cobb paused, and Din could see him stick his tongue between his teeth as he focused. “That’s. It’s been a while then.” 

Din went to nod, but felt Cobb’s fingers on his head and resisted the urge. “You could say that, yeah.” 

The cold metal of the scissors on his neck made Din shiver, and he saw Cobb smile in the mirror. “Stay still Djarin. Wouldn’t wanna hurt you.” 

Instead of focusing on the foreign feeling of someone else cutting his hair, Din watched Cobb work, taking time to notice the details of his face. Like how his tongue poked between his teeth when he focused, but only on his right side. And how Cobb was left handed, but always seemed to ruffle Din’s hair with his right hand. Maybe he was ambidextrous?

“How’s that look?” 

Din snapped out of his thought, peering at himself in the mirror. Cobb had covered his eyes, so Din pulled the mask off his face and inspected his hair. It was shorter in the back, less likely to get caught on his helmet when he took it off. The top was still long, though, and an errant curl flopped down across his forehead. “I like it,” he decided, picking up his helmet and putting it on. “Thank you Cobb.” 

Cobb nodded, pulling his hand off his eyes. “Any time.” 

Din smiled under his helmet, grabbing the Child and holding them to his chest. “We should probably get going soon.” 

“Give it another few days!” Cobb insisted, a smirk blooming on his face. “What, are you sick of me or somethin’?” 

“No,” Din said, hoping the smile on his lips translated to his voice. “But Peli might kill me if I don’t return her bike soon.” 

Cobb shivered. “I’ll spring you at the end of the week, how’s that sound?”

Din looked around, at the quaint life Cobb had built for himself in Mos Pelgo. “My offer still stands. You could come with me. I do need a babysitter.” 

“Ha!” Cobb laughed. “In your dreams!” Four days! Then I’m not babysitting any more.” 

“Four days.” For Din, that was no time at all. Four days was a blink, and then he’d be gone, on the road again. The thought crossed his mind, briefly, of retiring here. It was safe enough for the Child, and Din enjoyed living with Cobb. 

But he couldn’t. He had a job to do and a promise to uphold. “Four days,” he breathed, mulling those days over in his mind. “Okay. We can make four days work.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gedet'ye: Please  
> Ad’ika: Child, Son, Darling  
> Kandosii: Nice one, Well done  
> Buy'ce gal, buy'ce tal, Verbor'ad ures aliit, Mhi draar baat'i meg'parjii'se, Kote lo'shebs'ul narit: Old Mandalorian drinking song.

**Author's Note:**

> A guide for the Mando'a used in this story! Some words have multiple meanings, like Ad'ika has 6, so I picked the most relevant few.
> 
> Buir: Parent  
> Ad'ika: Darling, Son, Child  
> Birikad: baby carrying harness (Think Papoose)  
> Ba’vodu: Aunt or Uncle  
> Buy’ce: helmet  
> Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum: I love you  
> Ner ad’ika: My Child/Darling/Son  
> Burc’ya: Friend


End file.
